My Lion
by Dawn-Of-Indescribable-Colors
Summary: Godric attempts to keep his attraction to Salazar a secret...but Slytherin has other plans. WARNING: SEXUAL CONTENT. M/M-SLASH-BOYS LOVE. ENTRY FOR THE ALL SORTS OF LOVE COMPETITION, OTP (ONE TRUE PAIRING) GRYFFINDOR/SLYTHERIN


**My entry for the All Sorts of Love Competition, OTP. Hope you enjoy :)**

**Listen to:**

**The Ocean & the Sun - The Sound of Animals Fighting**

**Enjoy :)**

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_**~ My Lion ~**_

* * *

Radiant. More radiant than the sun, even as the colorful dusk bathed its stone in peach and scarlet and gold. It _glowed _where it stood, and he felt sure it would become the crown jewel of Scotland.

Such beauty was beyond compare.

Yet, somehow, he found his eyes drawn away from the breathtaking vision of Hogwarts, and to one-fourth of its founding instead.

There he stood, brooding.

Always, _always_ he was brooding, his plump lips set in a pretty frown. He did not seem to care. Hogwarts-the idea that had absconded with the lives of the four of them for the past five years-was finished, and yet he was not rejoicing.

Gracious, how could a man be so beautiful and so wrathful at once?

He was like a plague. A cancer spreading through Godric's mind at all hours of the day. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw green. Whenever he slept, imaginary fingers roamed his feverish skin.

And whenever he was alone...he could swear that he wasn't.

Perhaps his staring was too obvious.

That toxic, knowing gaze found him easily, slyly observing him out the corner of his eye. The stunning, sage color struck through Godric's natural courage like lightning, and he found himself quickly glancing away...as a _coward _would.

He was suddenly short of breath, a dull ring echoing in his head, and he felt very abruptly faint.

_By God, I hate you. I __hate__ you, _he thought, grinding his teeth and pressing a hand to his temple. Swallowing thickly, he forced out, "I must retire," and trudged off up the hill toward the castle, leaving Rowena and Helga hopelessly confused in the foreground.

He could practically_ feel_ Slytherin's eyes burning into the back of his skull.

The sun sank beneath the horizon as he walked, shadowing Hogwarts in darkness. "_Lumos," _he muttered, casting the blue glow of his wand ahead to illuminate the thick, summer grass. The proud bridge stood not twenty feet away, mahogany newly polished and glistening.

And the wood creaked comfortably beneath his feet as he crossed.

It was strange. Strange to think that soon these grounds would be swarming with bright, young students, gifted and preparing to take on the world of the magical. It made his chest swell with pride.

His legacy would be preserved within these walls, carrying on for generations as countless witches and wizards graduated to become some of the greatest ever seen.

It was all he'd ever wanted.

_No..._whispered a quiet, taunting voice at the back of his mind. _Not __all__. _

_Be silent! _he ordered, massaging his forehead furiously. He refused to think on it. Not for a moment longer.

Pushing angrily through the massive front doors, he paused to admire the magnificent hall before him. The Great Hall, they would call it. Fire-lit pedestals lined the walkway, the shadows of the flames dancing across the walls of stone. There was a warmth present here like none other.

Yes.

Yes, the future students would feel welcome here. Feel at home here.

And despite his troubled mind, Godric allowed a small smile to quirk his lips.

Somehow...even through the animosity between the four of them at times, they'd managed to form something wonderful. Something _good. _

And it'd been worth it.

* * *

Sleep evaded him, as per the usual, and he lay motionless upon his red, silk sheets, staring up at the ceiling. Rowena had concocted a potion for this, and urged him to take it nightly...but it tasted of troll dung, and to be honest he'd much rather deal with insomnia than breath that could render an army unconscious.

With a deep sigh, Godric tilted his head to the side, eyeing the thick books stacked upon his nightstand. Perhaps a good read would make his lids heavier.

_Then again, perhaps not,_ he mused after staring at them for a moment longer.

As if to make his decision for him, his stomach gave a rather sonorous growl, gut clenching painfully in hunger.

_Well, there you have it._

The kitchens had been built beneath the school, off to the side of the dungeons. Helga attempted to keep the password a secret from them, to avoid what she liked to call "Inappropriate & Premature Supper Raids."

Naturally, Slytherin had deciphered the password within a week.

"_Gillyweed," _Godric whispered to the hidden wall, slipping inside as it faded away before him. Instantly, torches lit within the expansive area, illuminating a long, low-ceilinged hall absolutely _overflowing_ with food.

His stomach gave another powerful rumble.

And so he decided he would have a little bit of everything. He was a growing young man, after all, and hardly on his way to portly. He could afford to overstuff himself.

Retrieving a large, silver platter from one of the cupboards, he began to pile one dish after another on top of it. Tea scones, roast beef, cucumber sandwiches, cauldron cakes...all he could get his hands on. But when he went down to the cellar, he was faced with a choice.

Pumpkin juice-obviously the wiser, more conservative option-or Firewhiskey.

As if it was really a choice at all...

He muttered the password over his shoulder once more to lock up the kitchens as he carried his bounty to the Great Hall. The massive gold doors creaked a bit when he opened them, but he was certain he'd gone undetected.

So he spread out the feast on one of the four tables and had a seat, uncorking the Firewhiskey to take a generous swig.

The liquid coated his throat in a pleasant burn on its way down, buzzing through his head to leave behind a comfortable sort of numb.

He sighed, sitting back and watching the single candle he'd lit flicker back and forth. It couldn't have been later than midnight, and through the tall, glass windows, the bright light of the moon poured in.

But he'd only been sitting for a minute or two before it came.

That deep, sultry voice-like the velvet lash of a serpent's tongue.

"That's quite a helping."

Godric was lucky he'd been able to control his surprise, digging his fingernails into his palms. He swallowed thickly, the mountain of food before him suddenly not so appetizing as before.

"You wouldn't really know, now would you?" he forced out, steeling himself and then glancing over his shoulder. "You are so very.._.twig-like." _

It was a pitiful lie.

Even now, as Slytherin stood shadowed in semi-darkness, it was possible to see his lean, muscular frame. He wore a black, silk dress shirt, the top three buttons left undone to reveal a smooth patch of skin that made Godric's mouth water.

He swallowed once more.

Slytherin's waist length curtain of glossy hair cascaded over one shoulder like a waterfall, the color of a raven's feathers, and Godric was forced to restrain himself from reaching out to touch.

This man was his _adversary. _The thorn in his side.

Why should he spare so much as a second glance for him?

"What do you want, Slytherin?" Godric asked, adopting a bored tone. Sharp green eyes looked him up and down.

"_I_ was merely wondering what all the commotion was."

"_Commotion?" _

Slytherin opted to lounge comfortably beside him on another chair, twirling his wand between lithe fingers. "Yes," he purred._ "Commotion." _

"That's ridiculous." Godric dismissed it with another large sip of Firewhiskey. But he couldn't help but notice their proximity...and the way Salazar's eyes continuously surveyed him where he sat.

There was a moment's odd silence, and then the dark man conjured up a goblet, swiping the bottle from Godric to fill it with the scalding drink. Shortly after, he stole Godric's glass as well, pulling it out of sight to refill it.

"A toast," Slytherin passed the goblet back, "to sleepless nights."

Gryffindor raised his eyebrows, but then, nevertheless, his glass as well. "To sleepless nights."

He downed the drink in one go.

If he was to sit here, conversing with _this_ man, of all people, he'd certainly need it.

But only seconds after the burning alcohol hit the pit of his stomach and his glass hit the tabletop, Slytherin released a quiet, husky chuckle.

"What on Earth are you smirking at?" Godric snapped.

Slytherin composed himself, opting for a clicking of his tongue instead. "My dear, _dear _Godric...you really ought to take more caution."

"I beg your-"

"The drink, Gryffindor." He rolled his eyes, as if exasperated by Godric's confusion. "One should never drink from a glass touched by another. Especially a glass touched by _me." _

A short, ignorant silence ensued.

And then Godric's eyes filled with horror, widening to the size of Prophecy orbs. "You...you.._.poisoned me?" _

Another look of annoyance crossed Slytherin's porcelain face. "Good God, are you really so daft? If I had wanted to kill you, I wouldn't have selected such a tedious, not to mention _time-consuming,_ tactic."

Godric was still clutching his throat, mouth agape as he stared at the man. "What did you-what did you _do?" _

Heaving a sigh, Slytherin reached forward, resting his thin fingers on Godric's collarbone, just beneath his fervently bobbing Adam's apple.

Godric froze.

"Calm down," whispered the darker man, allowing his fingertips to stroke ever so slightly over the warm expanse of skin.

"What did you do?" Godric asked again, but this time it was only a breath.

Deftly, Slytherin dragged his fingers down over Godric's open nightshirt, idly playing with the soft, brown curls on his chest.

Godric sucked in a gasp.

"I slipped you a potion," Slytherin finally answered, shrugging lightly. "Something of my own design. I think you'll find it quite..."

He flicked open the lowest, sealed button on Godric's shirt.

"_...potent." _

For a brief moment, Godric saw his sense float past in the back of his mind, and he grasped blindly for it. But the feel of Slytherin's bare, chilled palm on his chest rendered him blind to any sort of rationality within seconds.

"What-what is it?" he choked out, breath starting to grow short.

Slytherin eyed him, chewing his lower lip as he made a few quick, mental calculations. Then he swiftly stood, gracefully draping himself over Godric's lap so quickly he barely had time to blink, much less escape.

And they were so close.

So absolutely, _unbearably _close...

Godric's mouth ran dry.

"I thought I might call it _Excitatus," _Slytherin murmured, acting as though he were discussing the day's events over tea, and not provocatively stroking the man beneath him. "It's a curious thing. Enhances one's reaction to stimuli..."

Godric's eyes grew the slightest fraction wider.

"Makes everything more...well, _more." _

A shuddering, gasping breath tumbled from Godric's lips, sweeping across Slytherin's face and fluttering his hair back.

"I...I don't...I don't-Slytherin, what are you _doing?" _he managed. "What's come-come over you?"

Salazar ignored him, instead drawing that damnable, lazy finger up his recently exposed navel. "Tell me, Godric..." he purred, and at precisely the right moment, rolled his hips, causing a sudden, delightful friction to rip through Godric's pelvis. "Does it feel more intense?"

Much to his dismay, Godric's only response was a quiet, anxious moan, his eyes clouding over with fear. Slytherin thought he looked rather like a frightened little animal in that moment, and nothing like the ironclad man he normally knew.

He decided he liked this Godric better.

"What are you-" the man continued to stutter helplessly. "What are you going to do to me?"

Good God, he'd never seen Gryffindor so timid.

It was powerful to witness.

"Only good things." Salazar leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "I swear."

Godric squeezed his amber eyes shut, looking almost pained, and attempted to turn his head away, the cords of his neck visibly showing his strain.

"Let me show you," Salazar continued, closing their distance again and nipping the soft skin of Gryffindor's earlobe.

Godric gave a great shudder, hands clamping down on the arms of the chair, and another whimper filled the quiet hall.

He couldn't fathom how this had happened. One moment, it seemed, he'd been admiring Slytherin from a distance, yet knowing full well that he was a treasure to be gazed upon, never touched...and then the next...well...

His chest rose and fell violently, lungs seeming to ignore the air he desperately tried to suck in.

"Another factor of my marvelous concoction," crooned Slytherin, "is the slight essence of the Imperius Curse."

Panic shot through his captive, the broad body beneath him visibly quivering.

"Do you wish to know how powerful it is?"

Godric turned away again, grinding his teeth.

"Do you wish to know how much control I have over you?"

"Stop-stop! Please, stop!"

"Good Heavens...are you really _begging_, Gryffindor?"

And despite himself, Godric felt his member harden at Salazar's words, pressing up painfully against his trousers.

Slytherin felt it.

Of course Slytherin felt it.

Godric braced himself for the onslaught of taunts and humiliation...but it did not come. Instead, all was quiet and still for several long moments.

And when Slytherin seemed to reawaken, it was with the gentlest of touches that he drew his knuckles down Godric's cheek.

"There, there..." he whispered, and Gryffindor risked a glance back at him. He really shouldn't have. Slytherin's eyes were overflowing with lust, along with a strange, underlying tone that made Godric's gut stir.

"Be still, my lion," he said, "and I shall tell you what to do."

All at once, Godric's muscles seemed to liquefy, rendering him a motionless, useless heap upon the chair.

"Very good. Now touch me." Slytherin sat back to place his palm deftly over his groin. "Right here."

Something like a hiccup lodged in Godric's throat, and he briefly wondered when he'd become so cowardly...but nevertheless, his arm stretched out of its own accord, fingertips ghosting over the crisp fabric of Slytherin's trousers.

He gasped.

A hardness like none other met his questing hand, sending powerful shocks of pleasure up his arm and then down through the rest of his body.

_Slytherin _was pulsing for him.

Perhaps all along, he'd thought the raven-haired man was only toying with him. Attempting to embarrass him.

But there was no mistaking the evidence lying just beneath the pads of Godric's fingers.

"Mmm..." Salazar made a most delicious sound. "I'm certain you feel it. Press a little harder, my lion."

Every time he said those words, Godric felt a jolt in his heart.

_Lion..._

_My__ lion..._

Obediently, Godric pressed down, allowing his fingers to wrap slightly around the outline of Salazar's shaft...at which point Slytherin made a noise most unlike him.

A quiet, pleasured keen.

Gooseflesh spread across Godric's skin.

He had Gryffindor rub him a while longer, coaxing his fingers to glide over the covered hardness in very specific ways.

"_Up and down, my lion."_

"_Touch me underneath, my lion."_

"_Tighten your fist, my lion." _

And all of these commands Godric heeded perfectly.

Slytherin's passion began to build-climbing and climbing-until at once, when Godric was certain Salazar had reached his peak, his hand came down on Godric's wrist, stilling it.

"That is enough."

Godric nearly growled in protest. They were panting in time with one another, chests heaving so powerfully they brushed against each other's with every inhale.

"W-Why...why must we stop?" Godric asked quietly.

"Because I will it."

Much to Gryffindor's dismay, Slytherin started to lift himself from his lap, pulling away-but shortly after, he stopped.

"I have just one final command, my lion," he murmured.

Godric waited eagerly, unconsciously nodding.

"Kiss me."

Not even a second had passed before Gryffindor lunged from his seat, arms coiling around Slytherin's waist with an impressive swiftness. He swept the man against him, so that their bodies were flush. Slytherin barely had time to smirk-and then their lips collided.

Godric seemed to argue with himself.

Slytherin could tell he had wished to begin the kiss slowly, and with tenderness...but all the lion could produce was a bruising, beautiful war of tongues.

He took Salazar's lips as if he were trying to mark his territory, instantly parting them and sliding his moist tongue inside. He licked at the roof of Slytherin's mouth, tangled with his own tongue and bit and sucked his lips with abandon.

Sweet, wet noises resonated off the walls, and Godric groaned against him, his hands kneading at Salazar's sides.

He navigated slowly away from Slytherin's lips, kissing across his slender jaw and then into the delectable crevice between the bone and his ear. Suckling the spot, he delighted in the sound of Salazar's moan-as deep and as desperate as his own-then continued down his neck.

Slytherin spoke up then, repeating those godforsaken words.

"That is enough, my lion. Stop yourself." And he pulled away.

Once again, Godric had the complexion of a wounded animal, his fingers still clutching at Salazar's waist.

"I must retire."

And he left Godric gaping as he strode casually toward the great doors.

"Wh-no-_Slytherin!" _Godric shouted desperately after him.

Salazar paused, glancing back over his shoulder.

"How-how could you do such a thing to me? How could you-and then simply leave me wanting? H-How? _How?" _he spluttered, rage beginning to show on his handsome face.

Slytherin seemed to ponder something...then smiled gently.

"I did nothing, Gryffindor. Absolutely nothing."

Godric's brows furrowed. "What do you-"

"There was nothing in your drink, my lion..."

The room grew deathly quiet.

"Nothing at all."

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**3,000 words was the requirement, but listing the prompt took up space! Sorry!  
**


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